


You Always Can Blame Me

by BlackCat (DarkCat)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Being Lost, Chara (Undertale) Has Issues, Chara (Undertale) Has Their Own Body, Crying W. D. Gaster, Everybody Dies, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone Needs A Hug, Everything Hurts, Fix-It of Sorts, Flowey (Undertale) Being an Asshole, Frisk (Undertale) Has Issues, Gen, Gender-Neutral Chara (Undertale), Genocide Route Frisk (Undertale), Ghost Chara (Undertale), Good Chara (Undertale), Good W. D. Gaster, How Do I Tag, I Don't Even Know, I Wouldn't Call That Happiness, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Not Ashamed, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Implied/Referenced Torture, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, It's Hard and Nobody Understands, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Lies, Nice Chara, Other, PTSD Frisk, Pacifist Frisk, Parent W. D. Gaster, Protective Chara, SAVED Asriel Dreemurr, Sans Being Sans, Sans Has Issues, Sans Makes Puns, Sans Needs A Hug, Sans Remembers Resets, Scientist W. D. Gaster, Selectively Mute Frisk, Soft Chara, Suicidal Thoughts, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2018-09-01 21:00:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8637871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkCat/pseuds/BlackCat
Summary: The third one is finally gone. A broken Frisk found in the fallen an anchor, a shoulder to place the guilt they both felt. Of course, when Frisk goes too far… Chara has to stop them.So it's time to explain. Which is hard when your side of the story doesn't match that of the ‘angel’ that just so happened to free the Underground.Frisk is not as perfect as they pretend, and Chara is not as much of a demon as they may look like. But who would he believe?





	1. When He Is There And It Hurts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to just another day in literal Hell (with a capital h). Featuring: A severely traumatized ghost-child, a very heckin' spooky-scary-skeleton and Frisk's ever fading conscience in the background (Unwelcome Special Guest: The Player).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the deleted No Mercy Run chapter for my other published story, yet somehow found its way to become a different one entirely. Frisk and Chara share they/them pronouns, confusing I know; did my best to make it less so. Chara is the fallen, Frisk is the child. Enjoy!

Sunlight was shining through the golden windows of the Judgment Hall, dust flowing in the air, it was as if everything around them glowed a faded yellow light. In another life, Chara would have thought the effect of the both colliding was beautiful.

But as the light reflected on the knife in their hand, the one that once was a gardening tool, they wanted to throw up at the sole thought the moment it crossed their mind.

"Here we are!" They exclaimed in the room that brought back so many memories, lighted as they could in their fuzzy mind. "Here we are…" they mumbled again, they had to repeat it a couple times, as Chara can't find it in them to believe it themselves.

The locket was glowing too, or so it seemed. Because maybe, Chara hoped, if they stand still for long enough they could feel it beating, perceive the heartwarming light. A part of them felt contained within it.

Yet, somehow it felt wrong. They hate this. They hate everything about this. And no matter how many times the third one made them do this, it always felt so _wrong_.

"Right where it belongs." They mumbled every time the other one put the locket on Frisk neck. Using the child's own hands, like a puppeteer proud of moving it's marionette with ease.

It didn't belonged to Chara anymore, if it ever did, the fallen didn't deserved such a beautiful gift to begin with, not from… him of all people. Now less than ever.

But Chara didn't want reality to crack their made up dream. Because if they stand still long enough, they could picture his smiling face. A smile filled with purity, an innocence like they'd never seen before.

Well maybe there was a second time. But the red scarf that the monster in front of them was wearing now, contrasting with his usual blue jacket, told them all they needed to know about the environment of that situation.

As if they didn't know already…

Of course, no dream could last forever. And at the last words of the comedian, the one that once was ’their best friend, Chara prepared themselves to take a step forward. But they stopped at the last second, foot mid air.

And then, they took a step backwards.

Doubt?

No, they never felt doubt before.

Of course, the third one was a master at memorizing the patterns. Especially after so many resets. But no matter what, the comedian always managed to give that puppeteer a run for it's money.

Wich time was this one? Eighty, ninety…? They lost count at the third one's fifty genocide. It could be more than one hundred times already for all they cared.

Even after so long, they still remember why they did it the first time. During the first genocide…

At the second the words fell from his shut closed teeth, they took a step forward. Without giving themselves the time to think, to back away. Without letting the third one even contemplate preparing for this battle.

They were so desperate, so _determined_ to die… that they hung on the hope that _Sans_ could keep his threat.

Not that their faith wasn't justified.

 

* * *

 

"Y O U ' D  B E  D E A D  W H E R E  Y O U S T A N D." Said the skeleton, as the candles where melting.

The kid was shivering on their shoes at the new information, that was thrown at them so easily, like a mere fact well known.

The first fallen child gazed directly at the black void in his eyes, as the seventh looked away in slight fear. The air tensed.

His pupils, long gone, reappeared after a few seconds. The grin he was wearing looked just a little too wide for Chara standards when he dismissed lightly, as if suddenly realizing his mistake:

"hey, lighten' up bucko, I'm just joking with you!" Even so, his light tone left them hollow on the inside. They had seen his smile in the past.

Looking at the comedian, was like looking at the mirror of a fun house. He was like the fallen's reflection, but shifted in a twisted way.

And then Chara chuckled bitterly, with a smile that's mirroring his (or was his mirroring their's…?). Going as far as to stiffle a laugh.

But it's not funny…

 

* * *

 

He was lying, as Chara had guessed mere second after the words left his everlasting grin. And no wonder why.

He could have killed them so easily. Frisk was a pacifist back then, not a puppet.

They'd be nothing but a corpse in the snow. If it wasn't for the promise a lazy skeleton made once to an old lady.

Of course that promise had been broken countless times before. But their mom didn't know that, and now she doesn't have to. She's dead after all, it's not like she could know much of anything anymore.

Both the emotional and physical _pain_ was too much to take. The third one had not made an effort to stop to save or heal after Undyne The Undying. In fact it seemed like it made a purposeful attempt _not_ to. Their hollow grin was twitching just a little, as they forced themselves not to scream.

The grimace in their face went wide at the memory of that Monster Kid's face struck with pure terror. The hollow grin coursing the edges of their mouth as if it would break their cheeks in half, should it last long enough. A part of them hoped it could.

Anyone would guess the expression was fake. But they had to laugh not to cry in despair, just like they had to talk not to remember.

Some things were just better left alone. Frisk would surely agree with that, if the child could actually think rationally anymore.

Of course, the third one wouldn't. But honestly, who cares?

Sans, _Sans_ who is in front of them. Sans who, despite everything, is trying to save the timeline. Sans, the depressed comedian, the only one that really understood. Ironically, he is the only one who actually cares…

Chara forced their grin to soften into a smile, making black tears fall from their eyes. Eyes that melted. As they fell to their knees. They laughed, and laughed…

They laughed bitterly, at the maddening need to do so. They laughed away the pain as they covered their mouth with their hands to try and _stop_ ,  _stop it all_. But to no avail.

The skeleton watched them, slightly disturbed. Sweat beginning to form at the side of his skull. But that grin never left his face.

No words were spoken…

In all honesty they didn't blame him.

It felt like ages before Chara managed consciously, somehow, to stop laughing. They bring their gaze up from the golden-tiled floor of the Judgment Hall, to look directly at the ‘eyes’ (so to speak) of the comedian.

Only heaven knows what they saw there. Every heartache, every unfulfilled dream, every single emotion. Was this how he felt every time he saw them come back to fight again? Was it this way that he knew just how many times he…?

The smile got even wider against their will. Fortunately they managed not to snap, as the third one urged them forward.

"Maybe it freezed?" They hear it say. And the fallen knows that whatever they wish to accomplish, they must do it fast. Or there will be yet another reset.

"Do me a favor…" Chara mumbled, smile softening with all the will force, with all the _determination_ they had left "Would you?" The question was hesitant, pleading even.

There's a pause, he doesn't answer. But they can _feel_ the broken laugh in his throat, aching for freedom.

Because they sound so much alike to that old lady. And everything hurts, but _it's so funny!_

No it isn't, Chara mentally retaliates against him. Against _themselves_. Because it's _not_ funny.

His right eye socket glowed, intercalating between blue and yellow, for a second. His white like pupils long gone just as the words have been spoken. With no time to fit in.

Was it necessary an answer? No. And Chara never got the opportunity to speak with him before, might as well take it now.

They don't give him the chance to snap at them. There's no time to lose, the third one's attention is focused in Chara as the words are spoken.

"Kill them for me comedian…" Their voice was soft in their own ears, as the fallen resists the urge to sob.

Chara does not even know who they were referring to. Frisk, the third one, or themselves.

The most shocking occurrence of the whole thing was that, somehow, their smile managed to be sincere. Reminding them of that time when it almost always was.

Once uncountable lifetimes away, in a long gone (but never forgotten) past. When they had a mother, and a father, and a brother. And the hopes and dreams of everyone else.

But that's not how it works anymore. Because the fallen _failed_ them all, and then they _killed_ them all.

That was before, this is now. And now everyone is gone, but him.

Because Asriel, in his actual mind-state, would never believe them.

Because their dear old dad will die along side the judge, and _he just doesn't know._

Because Sans is the only one who can understand how this feels like. He _is_ the only one who _can_ really _care_ anymore. Even if he says he is incapable to.

Somehow, Chara finds it in them to appreciate that…

And as tears fall from their eyes against their will and better judgement. The one who is now the LOVE demon straightens, and takes a step forward.

Red like flames seem to be dying on Frisk eyes as a reflection of the yellow sunlight. Shinning with a sense of fullfillness as they're closed again. Control falls on the invisible master.

Chara would fight to stay awake, but they know it's to no avail. Without further resistance they're left in the dark again. To later face the consequences of the fate chosen by the puppeteer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep in mind that this is only the prologue and it kind of wrote itself, so I will continue this if you like the idea. Put a comment down below now, I don't bite haha.


	2. I Want To Protect Them (From Themselves)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chara and Frisk have a post-reset conversation and some important promises are made. Also Frisk almost never talks? And when they do is in a very particular way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing to say really, inspiration is a beach (with a harbor and everything). Enjoy!

Chara glanzed at the ceiling, the sun shone through the ivy accumulated in the giant aperture upon their head. The fallen identified the species to pass the time. Some golden hop and sky flowers, there was some scrambling lilies and trailing lantana's, some… coral pea? Here and there, maybe...?

Little cracks and fissures at the sides of the massive hole above the bed of flowers. Some having found their way at the natural wall on their left, the thing was unstable. And it made them unsure of whether or not it was going to fall down and stomp their inexistent body, it's dirt draining their blood as the bones are smashed to pieces.

The fallen was more than sure it wouldn't happen, not at this moment anyway. Still somehow it felt comfortable to think about.

It gave them the false hope of a release from this doomed vicious circle. So it was a contemting thought, even if maybe a little selfish. After all they couldn't effort to be free yet, Frisk still needed them.

And even if they're better off dead, they couldn't ever effort to abandon Frisk.

Suddenly crushing into their thoughts, they heard the familiar yet distant sound of free-falling, something cutting through the wind. They heard lianas and other creepers and climbing plants snap.

A human child had once again fallen to the Underground, speak of the devil…

Frisk body fell almost slowly, meeting the flowers head on. As Chara themselves did once, the child literally face planted into the ground. It's not like this was something new to Chara, but surprisingly it never grew old, it was always something worth watching.

It always reminded Chara of the first time they saw the child falling. Before the third one, just after waking up. They were so confused back then…

The child was as scratched as they were now, but not nearly as scared. Frisk was so fearful, so teary and messy back then, and Chara couldn't move and-

Better not to think about that.

Frisk, using all their will force, tried to move. Chara would have offered help but Fridk found a way somehow to turn their body out of pure determination. Chara could just watch, as the kid's soul was forced to its limits just by a trivial movement like this one seemed to be. It was rather painful to watch but its not like they could turn around. They wouldn't even if they could, even if they had to. Frisk needed them to be there. To provide some twisted kind of comfort.

As always, the child was wearing the same blue sweater with two purple stripes running horizontally in the middle, Frisk still seemed a little bit swamped in the fabric. It was almost as if the sweater was just a couple sizes too big.

Along with the sweater, they wore blue jean shorts held in place by a rather weak old looking cyan belt. On their foot a pair of brown leather boots, mostly cover in grass and mud.

Their straight brown hair ended at their chin in a rather cute cut, like a mirror of the one Chara had once. Short locks ended just mid forehead. Yet it seemed like they could grow and cover up the kid's eyes any day now. Of course, that most likely wouldn't happen any time soon.

For a moment, shut closed eyes somehow seemed to glance around at the hole upon their head. Like Chara themselves mere seconds ago.

It looks as if the Angel of Death had returned. They were both once again back in the entry of the Underground. Both just lied silently for a moment, the little rests the child and the fallen had were always short lived, but they were acquainted to sink in every second of it. After a couple minutes, Chara was the one who broke the silence, as always, because Frisk never dared begin a conversation (in fear they would wake up to a bloodshed).

"Frisk…" said Chara that day, when the world was just reset for who-knows-who-cares-which time.

The child took their sweet time to answer, surely enjoying the time they had left before the puppeteer finally decided it wanted to begin it's sadistic game.

The seventh child mumbled a shy response, a on such a low volume that Chara almost missed it.

It would have been easy to do so, under ‘normal’ circumstances.

But right now, next to each other, as buttercup like pellets gently scratched their sweater. Right now, when they both heard nothing but the distant sound of birds singing and their own thoughts, absent mindlessly blinded by the poor to little sunlight they can get from the hole upon them.

Right now they can pretend that the third one's not going to appear at any second to rid the fallen once again of their will to live. To destroy everything Chara ever cared about, and that the fact that that will happen is un-avoidable. Right now, along side Frisk, they can pretend even, if for a passing moment, that the world is not going to end by their hands.

"May… may I ask you a question?" The fallen stammered, desperate to stop thinking.

Frisk answered happily. The child signed something confidently with a flirty smile.

"Frisk, it's just you and me, stop the happy-go-lucky facade." Answered Chara dryly. Doing their best to be comprehensive

They knew Frisk better than anyone. Even though the false mask may work for everyone else, the child couldn't trick Chara. They saw Frisk's true colors, and the worried lines on the kid's face were enough to prove the fallen right.

An ‘I'm sorry’ was all the response the child could give. Their trembling hands however, was all Chara needed to know that Frisk wasn't faking it.

The third one was sure late this time round, but they could wait forever. It's not like any of them could move anyway, even if they tried to.

"It's okay Frisk… but-" Chara interrupted the statement, mentally preparing themselves for what was yet to come. Even in an apparently peaceful moment like this. "I'll ask you to promise me something."

There was a ‘plese don't freak out’ implied somewhere in there.

Frisk fell silent, their hand also unmoving. The child's ever-closed eyes weren't as visible and Chara could swear they saw the phantom of a faded grin on the kid's face.

And acquired gesture, maybe…?

The relaxed aura seemed to went away and even the birds appeared to stop humming. The atmosphere changed drastically as soon as the forbidden word left Chara's mouth.

It was pretty unsettling, to say the least.

The sevent fallen child murmured something (in a rather unsettling tone) about being unable to make promises, because those got people killed. The words didn't give much hope to the one who was long gone.

Sans was a sensible theme for both of them. A taboo, if they ever had one. With Asriel been at first place, he may be the second theme the both of them rather not talk about.

But none of them was going to mention Asriel.

"Just swear you'll do this for me, please…"

The seventh was speechless, and that's all Chara needed as a confirmation.

"Promise me you'll never do it." they said, the golden flowers sorrounding them swaying with the wind, with as much meaning as they could give to their words "Promise me, that you will never hurt them of your own will…"

They had no idea where the question came from. How did a try out of escaping the past let them to revive it? Why were they doing this to Frisk…?!

But the fallen couldn't take it back, because _they needed the answer._

Frisk was silent, it seemed almost as if the words were just incapable to slip from the child's mouth. So the kid used their hands instead.

Frisk heavily signed an ‘I swear’ and the fallen was taken aback by the fact that their heart somehow felt lighter.

The fallen wanted to live, they wanted to smile and to play, and to have moments of joy with their loved ones.

They wanted Frisk to do all of those things.

As Chara waited silently, Frisk just hoped that it would never come. Both of them lying down on the bed of golden flowers.

It was on a more literal sense for Chara, but Frisk didn't had to know that yet. Of course, that doesn't mean they didn't.

Frisk asked, mere seconds afterwards, that what if the others ever asked, that what if they don't belive Frisk, that what if the child can't talk at the time…?

The fallen felt guilty, after all, one promise a reset was enough as is. But, for Frisk's sake, Chara needed them to make this other, silent promise.

"Well, if things get too harsh on you…" the fallen said with a bitter laugh. "You always can blame me."

Frisk was about to answer, but suddenly everything stopped. _It_ appeared, yet the conversation was over anyway. The oath had been made. They both lied in the bed of buttercups just listening to the sounds in the background.

Chara felt it's presence, the moment it came. They felt the pressure in Frisk muscles as theirs. The ever so slightly painful way the puppeteer exerted control over their every single movement.

Frisk was silently screaming in a kind of horror-full pain, mostly emotional. Like every time this moment came. Chara offered some kind of confort, the best they could in their current... state.

As the third one finally came. Just a fraction of a second, unseen eyes glared around before finally pushing Frisk out of the golden flowers. Like the loyal ghostly companion they were, the fallen followed suit. The killer wouldn't spare them a moment.

"Let this homicidal rampage begin!" Said Chara optimistically, the smile on their face was so wide it may just cut their checks in half.

Isn't it just funny that, despite the cheerful tone, they where _dying_ on the inside?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay dear readers, that's all I can give you for Christmas but I hope that my gift is worth it!


	3. Pain And Freedom Are Pretty Much Attached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chara would know as much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a long hiatus I'm here again, enjoy!

Their mother was once again on it's way. On Chara's way. They look at her, and they hope they can transmit every bit of pain and regret through Frisk's red eyes.

"Where are the knives?" They had asked themselves earlier. Like every time they did, there was no response on Frisk's part.

Chara supposed that, if Frisk knew, the child wanted to spare themselves the pain of yet another reset. However, the fallen couldn't promise they were going to resist the urge to stab themselves any lorger.

Kitchen knives be damned, the toy knife would have to do.

Chare awaits for the inevitable. They're surprised when it doesn't come immediately. The third one had pressed talk.

"Don't worth talking to…" they mumbled. And it's true, reasoning with the player was impossible.

They won't let themselves gain hope. It would just get crushed in the end. It always does.

As expected, it waits patiently, until she stops attacking.

The sound of the knife cutting through flesh followed soon after.

"Do you… really hate me… that much…?" Her voice is breaking, just like her body. "I know who I was protecting by keeping you here, not you, but them." She laughs, one last time.

And her laughter sounds so much like Chara's own that a shiver runs down Frisk's spine in response. Chara can't blame the child, as the dust flows away, getting in the kid's clothes and skin, burning them.

This is what she may have wanted, in another life. Her dust being spread in the things she loved. What a better alternative than the one she once loved the most, one of her children. The plastic one in absence of the real one. The placeholder.

Chara laughs painfully at the irony of it all. What a grim way to fulfill such a beautiful wish.

They take a moment to stare at the dusty floor. They would cry, like the first few times, but those tears dried long ago. And so, they think instead.

Every monster, every one of them, was a person. Yes, they vary in shape and form, some had fang, some had claws, some were as small as an ant and some were as tall as a house. But every one of them had a soul made of love and compassion. Every single one was alive. Every single one was a person. Non the less, their own person. Particular and interesting, each one in their own way.

Monsters had friends and family to cry for 'em when they didn't came back, they had hopes, and dreams, and a heart that was most likely shattered. Despite everything, some of them _dared_ forgive Chara in the end.

And yet it still slaughtered 'em. Every monster, every drop, every _particle_ of dust… _was a person_.

Chara tried not to dwell on that.

The stone-made doors opened. Chara hears the creature who used to be their brother laugh with glee. And they hate it.

They pass through the next door, this one bigger and heavier than the last one. Light blinding them for a moment as they try to focus.

They walk forcefully on the snow covered path, the only noise being that of their footsteps. Like a puppet hanging from their stings. Suddenly, they hear a branch snap.

A handshake, an unholy sound. In another life, Chara would have laughed. Frisk, would have laughed.

"heh, old lady, you sure know how to pick 'em…" he murmured, though they can her him. The grin on his face couldn't look more fake, even if he tried.

He talks for a bit. They pay attention to the way his expression changes, but they won't bother to listen. They're struggling to keep control of their actions as the puppeteer orders to move, again and again. Is been like this for some timelines now, thankfully it never works.

"…actually, i think that's him over there, come on, go hide behind that conveniently shaped lamp." But they won't. Because they won't let it have fun with the ones who's life it's going to take. They won't let it play with it's victims like this.

Or so they tell themselves. As they suppress their left hand, the one carrying the weapon, with the right one.

They won't let it kill them so easily. Not like this. An ounce of free will, and it was going to approach for a fight in this very moment. That's why Chara wasted their energy like this every time. Because if they don't, there's no way to delay the inevitable.

"…so, keep pretending to be human."

And he didn't know. He didn't know that he was right. Because if Chara was ever a human, there's no way they were anymore.

A human wouldn't feel this genuinely remorseful.

They close their eyes. And let control fall on Frisk's hands. Because they're tired.

They're tired of delaying the inevitable.

Next time they open their eyes, there's fog blocking their view. But they can clearly perceive a figure in the distance.

Check, the third one orders.

"Forgettable" they say.

Forget, forgive, _mercy._

_Please, have some mercy._

Chara takes one final step forward.

"I see that you are approaching, are you offering a hug of acceptance?" He ask. Ever so clueless.

They hug him, tightly so. They hug him with all their might, using all the determination they have left into their broken soul on that action.

"I'm sorry…" they managed to whisper before control slips from their hands.

The slash that follows makes them sick to their stomach.

"I… I still believe in you. You can do a little better, if you just try to." The skeleton said, or what was left of him anyway. As every trace of dust in their skin was itching, burning slowly.

This was a property well known for Chara, one they were used to by now. To the point of being almost numb to it. It's not like the fallen doesn't deserved every ounce of pain they could feel.

There's a scarf in the snow. But neither of them want to look.

Waterfall was next, Monster Kid was as clueless as always. And the fate of the true heroine was decided without so much as a sweat on the third one's part. They eyed Undyne's melting form with something resembling empathy. Even though the fallen knew the heroine would most likely punch them if she knew they dared to pity her.

Chara had forced Frisk's steps to come to a stop in front of the statue. But the puppeteer hadn't even bother to pick up an umbrella since a hundred timelines ago or so.

Chara tried not to think, when that didn't work out, the falllen tried not to smile. As expected, they failed miserably and ended up almost breaking into a painful maddenning cackle (they were sure there were some tears running down their- _Frisk's_ face), but who is someone to hope from a failure?

Hotland was next, as easy as always. Alphys didn't show up, probably cowered crying somewhere down in Gaster's lab, poor girl. The two sentries in love were nearly the only casualties. The Core followed soon after.

The painted smile on their face went wide with every monster the plastic blade (the third one's favorite weapon as they had soon noticed somewhere down this helish road) cut straight through them _so easily_ that it made Chara feel sick.

They managed to lock eyes with Mettaton NEO, and the fallen could just hope he would be able to see in Frisk's eyes how much they appreciated his pointless sacrifice.

So, it was no surprise they were always sick.

Frisk's will seemed to be weakening, as Chara's smile went wide (with _every_ monster). The child's will to live long gone (left in the ruins with Toriel's dust). The inescapable, undying determination, being the only thing keeping Frisk's conscience attached to this world at all.

Of course Chara knew this, Chara knew better than to face the fake pacifist, and hope for them not to flinch when their eyes met. Why fake? You may ask. Because that was nothing but a facade, Frisk had no real self, no real feelings. If the kid ever had, not anymore.

But that only made Chara the more eager to protect them. Because Frisk by heart, used to be a pacifist. Frisk used to care, the child used to look sincere. They used to sound sincere. They used to feel sincere.

Because Frisk, for all their faults, used to be sincere. And then the puppeteer came to play it's sadistic game, and so everything changed (but at the same time not).

It was pretty harmless the first couple of times. It startled Chara at first. Not to mention Frisk, it terrorized Frisk "I can't move, I can't move, I can't-" they kept repeating on their head like a mantra. Or a cry for help that only Chara was capable of hearing. And then Frisk moved, but it was not them.

That's how they got to meet the third one. It wasn't so bad a companion back then, it went through the entire Underground with hurry, not bothering talking or befriending anybody. After that there was the ending, not a pretty one for a neutral run.

Then there was the reset and it seemed like a brand new person, it cheked everything, talked to everyone, it even faked naivety and cluelessness given the chance. That was a pacifist run, just as the one's that followed. It acted differently in every one of them, just to see if something changed.

When it didn't notice any mayor changes, neutral followed pacifist.

Neutral run after neutral run, each one more violent than the other or maybe in any specific order. Either way it killed. Then it brought it's victims back witch a press of the botton. Everything, just to see every possible outcome.

It seemed to grow bored, more each reset, until all hell broke loose. It made them kill, and it never stopped. Everything went horribly wrong. Sometimes it made them kill and reset, kill and reset, and again, and again, and again, as if it enjoyed killing the monsters.

That _human_ , (because it had to be human) the damned creature… that brat… that horrible beast…

That _monster_ really thought it was fun. And they _hated_ it.

Or so Chara told themselves, because (and there was no way of denying it) a part of them. A cracked, tiny, messed up, broken part of them, thought it was fun somehow. They hated it (and oh, how much they hated that damned smile of theirs, they wished to _cut their face in half_  so they never had to see it again).

The worst part was that, really deep down (against their will and morals, against the pain and regret or maybe as a self-defense technique to become numb to it) they were beginning to enjoy it. And the fallen hated themselves even more than they hated the third one for that.

Then, after a while of sleeping… it all ended.

They woke up to the face of their brother in the flower's. And felt how the third one forced the blow. They used their last inch of sanity to end his suffering quickly.

And it all faded to black.

"Here we are again." Chara had murmured in that unreadable tone this pseudo-void gave them, saying them more for their sake than Frisk's or (hell forbid) the third one's. "Here we are again, in this very special hell."

Just at that moment, as they looked at the _monster_ that stared back from over Frisk shoulders, an idea struck them.

It wasn't new. Chara knew that much because nothing was new anymore. Yet, this, impossibly enough, felt like it.

It felt like a way out.

Something that had not occurred to them before, found somehow a way into their thoughts. And they smiled even wider, desperate to free themselves and the ones they loved.

Chara keep the appearance, gave their speech so that Frisk wouldn't have a way to know what was to come.

Curiously, the third one pressed ‘Do not’ for the first time in a long stack of timelines. Yet Chara found it funny, as twisted as that may be. Ironically, it was going to have it's way.

"As you wish." And they slashed.

Not at Frisk, but directly at the puppeteer.

 

* * *

 

Inside the dark basement someone inclined slightly on it's chair.

In the corner of the room (that otherwise was full of old boxes wich contain went untouched for a while now) there was a table.

Over it was a computer, and a cold mug of coffee with an empty plastic bag beside it, said bag had the word "Marshmallows" written on it in a funny font the colors of the rainbow.

The table was stuffed too with a lot of papers, some of them where wrinkled and some of them seemed to had been put on the wall with tape.

There where shelves on the wall, beside the table, that contained quite a lot of little figures and decorations that may had come from a show of some sort.

In front of the PC was a redhead, wich messy hair was obviously dyed, as the game was running. The teenager looked back from his notebook at the machine when the little demon inside it began their speech. Taking note of the little bits and pieces that had changed this time round.

When he got on his quest to discover every secret in this particular game without any game sharks, debug mode or hacking of any kind he hadn't expect that there would be so many! The details Toby Fox had put in such a masterpiece was truly fascinating.

A number was written with black marker in the upper side of the page, beside the word ‘Reset’: 217. That as the options appeared on screen.

‘Erase’ or ‘Do Not’, that was the dilemma.

The youngter laughed slightly at his own mental joke, the screen lighting his features in the dark room. He giggled since the choice was pretty much pointless, the despicable character on screen was going to do the former no matter what he picked.

The player choosed ‘Do Not’ anyway, it has been quite a long time since he had seen this particular jump-scare.

For a second, the facial features of the character seemed to darken, and he wrote fiercely about the presence of this new sprite just before it changed to the usual screamer, but just as he waited for the usual lines (‘Since when where you the one in control?’) he was surprised when instead he received the line:

"As you wish."

Then there was the red hit, the entirety of the screen was covered by nines.

And then the monitor exploded with a deafening sound.

He pulled himself out of the chair fast enough, so the damage reduced to nothing but a few scratches.

He heard a female scream from upstairs, as he yelled fearful:

"Mom, Dad! A deamon blew up our computer!"

As his parents walked downstairs, he wondered just how he was supposed to post the occurred in his blog on such a way that it seemed believable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can begin to say how sorry I am for taking so long, but writer's block does what it does. However I ain't gonna write excuses. I can just say I'm thankful that some of you may have stayed and waited for this chapter, I love you guys!
> 
> So we met the player at last, but it seems to be the last we'll hear of him. Hah, truly a shame, I somehow took a liking to the guy. Hopefully you'll hear of me soon enough. Read you later~!


	4. The Difference Between Darkness and Blackness…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Is That One Is Comforting, While The Other Destructive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally here! Enjoy the chapter! (comments are appreciated btw just in case I can't answer right away!)

The Void is a horrible place, neither Chara nor Gaster would debate on that matter. That made sense, since they wouldn't even talk about it, not a mention, not _a single_ acknowledge of it's existence. Even if they _were_ on the place itself.

Because the Void is a horrible place, both of them knew that, both still know it. And they both know better than to talk about it.

However, that particular rule was broken _once_. And Chara does not _exactly_ know why the memory surfaces when they're being shattered into the very veil of time, space and whatever-the-hell other materials the universe is made of. But it does.

Chara could see it all too clear now. Sounds could not travel in the void, but with the use of windings and sign language communication wasn't that much of a problem anymore. With time and effort, because it _was_ still a problem at the beginning when they found out about each other's existence.

There wasn't much visual complexity to the situation. After all, the good doctor was as much of a shinning spot in the blackness as Chara was with their clever brown hair and light green sweater.

The difference being that he blend in a lot better than they did. With his scratched, old looking black robe that covered his skeletal feet and a good portion of his arms. His skull was almost the only giveaway he was present at all, with his hands being exposed for practical reasons.

They both sat on the unexistent, nothing but a few feet away from each other. The white of his bones contrasted sharply with the black emptiness of their surroundings. As he moved his hands in calculated gestures in a language long forgotten. Gestures that now held a meaning for Chara, and Chara alone.

"You do not look so talkative today, young one." His white like pupils minimize. The upside of his eye sockets inclines down slightly, as if he's frowning, but the soft lines of his mandible show that's indeed not the case.

Concern was clear in his skeletal face. Chara wonders for what has to be the millionth time how bones, cracked and scarred bones like his non the less, manage to blend like that. Like any other time the question crossed their mind, there's no apparent answer.

The fact won't stop surprising them. It can't. Because if it does, then every other thing in the void that they had done over a million times should. Were that the case, their afterlife would be meaningless.

Just after the thought occurs to them, that's the moment their scattered brain actually processed the meaning behind the gestures.

‘Today’ what a funny word. Neither of them knew when ‘today’ was anymore. Being in the void is meant to mess with your perception of time somehow.

Food for thought, they guess. Well, in lack of real food, it was good enough.

"I'm fine, doctor. It must be your old mind playing tricks on you." They respond with a couple hand waves, making the movements as cheerful as they can muster. Eyes fixated everywhere but in his. Blending their child like face so they can try and fake a convincing smile.

They won't fool him. They know it's not working. It never does.

As if he read the fallen's mind, the doctor closes the distance between them to stand directly in front of Chara. Then he puts a bony hand in their chin and proceeds to lift their head.

"Young one, look at me." He signed in their line of vision with his free hand. "Chara."

They had to double check on their unreliable memory of gestures. But yes, he made the shortened gesture for ‘Character’ that he had adopted for their name. Which was weird, because he never called them by their name.

They were either ‘young one’ on a regular basis, ‘small one’ if the doctor was in a good mood, ‘child’ if he wasn't and ‘human’ if he was feeling particularly… _wrong_ at the time. Like Gaster was just ‘doctor’ by default, or ‘doc’ if they were strangely unaffected. Never were they ‘Chara’ unless it was a serious conversation.

And they did _not_ like serious conversations.

"Chara." He repeated the gesture firmly, their face converts in a teary frown against their will. They're not sure why, but they feel like they are being scolded.

Even so, Chara's eyes wouldn't leave their feet, as if all of a sudden the blackness below them had become interesting again. Like it was when they tried to figure out the logic behind standing in _sheer pure nothingness_.

"I'm f-fine." They repeated. But the shaking of their hands communicates clearly that no, no they aren't. That is, if their expression isn't enough of a giveaway.

"We both know that's not true, it hasn't been for even longer than we've known each other." He signs with firm movements, and it hurts because they know he is right.

Chara feels like crying all over again. Not that tears would come, those dried a long time ago (metaphorically as well as in physical sense). But it was worth a shot.

The utter _wrongness_ of this place had gotten to them often in the past. Of course, the first breakdown was by far the worse. But the occasional psychological crisis would arrive from time to time.

It hadn't happened as often since they had found the doctor, the company made wonders for their shattered mental health. The last one they'd had seemed so far away that they almost allowed themselves to think it was over.

_Almost._

They feel like it, so they do it. They hug the melting form of the skeleton before them and sob, because is the closes approximation to crying they're ever going to get here.

The fallen's not sure which one of them is more surprise that they actually showed weakness for once. The skeleton or Chara themselves.

A smell proper of antiseptic with a tint of decay, surely added by the void around them, fills their shaking breath. Overall, the smell gave the good doctor an air of contaminated sterility.

However, the strong scent had grown on them over the course of time. To the point when it was now comforting.

"I want to go home." They muster, but no sound came. "I want to see Asriel, I want to see mom and dad." However they keep at it. Because it doesn't matter. Nothing does anymore.

They felt his hand moving, surely forming comforting, meaningless words.

"I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want to be in this numbing _void._ The blackness makes me sick!" They screamed silently as their grip on the skeleton tightened. "I want to feel, I want to feel, help me!" They screamed helplessly, and heard nothing at all.

They're sure that if the doctor could talk, he would be saying something along the lines of: "Hush, child. It's okay, it's okay. We'll make it out." In a soothing manner, shushing with care.

Unknown for them is the fact that he is signing those exact words with one hand, as he (somewhat awkwardly) corresponds the gesture with the other.

"Help me, save me, please, please help me…" They murmur wordlessly, again and again.

And he just stood there. Silently caressing their hair as they buried their face in what, in another life, might as well have being a cloak.

He just stood by their side, holding them gently like he had done countless times in the past. Like he would continue to do during their timeless stay in the Void.

They can't help but find it in them to appreciate that now. The fact that he had been so understanding with them. The fact that he had provided them a lifeline in the form of care and affection, in such a cruel place.

In a way, W. D. Gaster was for them more of a father figure than any human could ever be. Maybe than any monster.

Now, that the blackness was substituted by darkness. Chara asks themselves whatever was in the mind of the scientists in the void that day. Whatever was of him now that they couldn't be there to be his only companion?

The question stayed in their head after the world reshaped itself, during that first pacifist run. The first in such a long, long time.

As Frisk interacted with everyone anew. Chara could almost deceive themselves into thinking the child was oblivious to all the past slaughter… all the terrible, terrible things that this beat up timeline had to witness.

All the terrible things that _Chara_ had to witness. That Chara had _done_.

But the fallen knew better. Because when no one was looking… that kind and patient facade of Frisk's all but _crumbled_.

The look on the kid's face in every battle, when their opponent was not looking, when the child thought _Chara_ wasn't looking. Those ever closed eyes that somehow managed to entrail so much… emotion. That look of sheer resignation, was just the beginning.

But the longing glance Frisk would throw at the FIGHT button after every unwilling reload, was the last straw in the metaphorical rope _snapping_.

And Chara knew. Somehow, they _knew_ it was coming before all hell broke loose again. Yet they didn't do anything.

And what could they do, really? Chara had no body, no one could see them. And even if someone _could_ , this was _Frisk_ the fallen was talking about (sweet, selfless,  _pacifist_ Frisk). If they revealed their fears, who would even believe them?

The worst part was that, even if someone somehow belived Chara's version of events… it's not like there was anything this metaphorical person could do either. This person wouldn't even _remember_  their warning the next reset.

The only thing Chara could do was hold on, and keep going. They only had the little ounce of sanity and critical thinking their brain held unto out of sheer determination.

Well, the last part was not _entirely_ true.

Chara had LOVE, as terrible as the thing may be. Chara had the numbness that came with it. Chara had that warm emptiness, not unlike what they felt in the void embracing the doctor. Chara had _protection_.

But what did _Frisk_ had that could save the child from madness?

The question was not acknowledged that route. It remained devoid of an answer.

That until Chara found themselves yet again waking up in a familiar bed of golden flowers.

The unfeeling glance on Frisk's face the moment they were to stand said it all. And Chara fears where confirmed in the worse possible way imaginable.

Just when they thought the nightmare was over. Yes, in a way, it was. But at what cost?

It was too late for the long lost pacifist.

Frisk had nothing. Nothing at all.

Nothing but **DETERMINATION**.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya again readers! Glad to be here as always, you guys are the best for putting up with me seriously. I'm so exited to continue. Read you later!


	5. Regret Is The Worse Kind Of Emphaty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chara questions their life choices. They're just in denial.

Chara was running.

No, Frisk was running.

Chara could only recall clearly the panic they felt. Then, waking up after forcing a reset in the first Save Point, because they were damned if they were taking any chances.

They barely remember getting a hold on their last saved file. Before they knew it, they where once again sleeping in Frisk's bed. A full year after a successful pacifist route.

The first thing in their mind was:

_I've got to make ’em pay._

Because Frisk was going to break the promise.

Had Chara not acted when they did, Frisk would have betrayed them. Frisk would have destroyed everything they both cared about without a second thought.

Frisk would have betrayed them, _willingly_. Without an instant of hesitation.

Well, then. If that's how Frisk wanted it to play out, so be it. No turning back, Chara was going to give them hell on earth.

The fallen could only recall the moment their hand curled in their dagger, conveniently placed inside Frisk's desk-drawer. It would be easy, so easy. Almost too easy.

To make Frisk pay. To have a twisted sense of poetic justice. To show them that even ‘happy endings’ were not permanent.

That neither of them was above consequences.

The worst part of the whole thing, was that Chara had given themselves a moment to fully consider it, with a sense of dread and a maniac glee. Before what was left of their sanity had snapped back into place with an inaudible ‘click’.

Then, they were running. Because the thought of vengeance, the bitterness… it was all going to consume them finally.

Because they had to get away from their loved ones. Before the nonexistent LOVE could influence them any further. Before they did something that they would no doubt regret, if they were to recover their sanity afterwards.

Frisk was not above consequences. And neither was Chara, if they had a saying on it. For the life of them, they were going to do things right, for once.

Even if it costed the fallen their own life.

The monsters deserved freedom.

Chara was not going to take it from them.

And neither was Frisk. If they wanted to, they would have to pass over Chara's very grasp on existence.

They recall bumping into Toriel on their way out. Shortly after they slammed the door loudly while they were exiting the room.

"I'm sorry, mom." They mumbled against her in the second it took them to recover. Because they were so sorry, sorry for reasons she wouldn't even be able to comprehend.

"My child?!" Chara couldn't find in themselves the motivation to decipher her tone.

They didn't want to.

So they kept running, and they didn't look back.

They recall stumbling upon Sans, who was in the kitchen. Probably searching for something to eat that wasn't his brother's spaghetti. That, though it had improved, was not yet properly edible.

"are you okay kiddo?" He said from the fridge, before turning towards them.

His pupils disappearing the moment his eye socket's made contact with Frisk's frantic, very open, red eyes.

His presence was just further motivation to run faster.

And before they knew it Chara was a fearful, panicking mess. They ran, they climbed, they twisted Frisk's body and flinched from time to time.

They recall the sound of footsteps. They recall the sound of… something, something that was cutting through thin air.

Something that sounded very much like someone teleporting, someone following them.

Someone asking what was wrong.

Someone telling them to stop, someone telling them to explain.

Someone pleading them to be rational, someone pleading them to listen.

Until the yells and screms and sounds could not reach them. Were not supposed to.

But they did.

Chara fought to convince themselves that they were not being followed.

Chara pleaded for it not to be the case. That in the chance it was, for it not to be the one individual they thought it was. Chara pleaded that they were hallucinating.

Chara pleaded to every deity know to mankind that the paranoia had gotten the better of them. And they were not being followed.

But the fallen struggled against fatigue all the same, moving as fast as Frisk's body could tolerate. When it wasn't enough, they moved even faster.

Their breath caught in their throat, Chara's carefully put together walls crumbled, as they stressed themselves over nonexistent threats. Behind every tree, in every corner.

Until everything came to a stop, when they looked down just in time not to trip.

But Chara couldn't recall for the life of them how they got here.

Oh, they knew perfectly well _why_ they were here. The mountain was familiar, the mountain was security and routine.

Mount Ebbot was everything they'd ever known for _so long_ , that it was the first instinct for the both of them to search for it. To run towards it the moment they spotted it's outline in the distance.

Now, as they eyed the massive hole beyond their feet, Chara couldn't grasp where they ended and Frisk began.

Chara would ask themselves later on if, for the both of them, free will was nothing short of an illusion.

Now however, the matter of who took it its futile, because the decision was taken. One of them took a step forward, and in no time, they were falling.

Later, Chara would ask themselves: Who jumped? Frisk, or the falleen?

Now, their beaten up body cut through the wind, almost in slow motion. Then, as the sight of the rising sun deemed ever so slowly. Chara began to hear something that closely resembled… beating.

A logical part of them acknowledged that it had to be Frisk's heart rate speeding up. A biological occurrence that was rather understandable, given the situation. But something inside told them that no, no it wasn't.

Then, as darkness swallowed them up, they saw it. The red glow of their own soul.

Their soul that was beating, ever so slightly.

Chara did not have a heart anymore. So this was somewhat normal for them, since their translucid soul had become a substitute when they followed Frisk around as a ghost.

Their red soul, beating in their chest peacefully, almost unnoticeable. At least until they were exposed to a strong emotion.

Then, it hammered inside their chest. In a motion that, had they been alive, would have been painful. But for a ghost this was nothing short of a bother.

Now however, it hurt. It ached in Frisk's chest, and Chara felt the pain as vividly as if it was their own. They felt the urge to scream bloody murder because, and they were damned if that wasn't and understatement, it _hurt_.

But not as much as the knowledge that Frisk betrayed them. Something that just now crossed their mind again.

In itself, it wasn't a surprise. They were even expecting this to happen. But that doesn't meant the backstabbing hurt any less.

However they did not have the time to dwell on the knowledge, because the ground was slowly closing in.

And if their soul was hammering before, it now _slammed_ against their ribcage.

Against Chara's ribcage, not Frisk's, they realized with shock. Not Frisk's, but _Chara's_ ribcage.

As the ground approached even faster, they seemed to fall in slow motion. Seconds becoming years with every passing moment.

The last thing they saw was a flash of gold. Then, Chara woke up to an infinite blackness.

For a second, they feared the worst.

Then, they realized that the Void was not supposed to feel like a great pressure was squashing their body. Threatening to crush their very being.

For an agonizing moment they found themselves missing the sense of distance that they had when they were in control of Frisk's body. The knowledge that the pain was not theirs, and the numbness that came with it.

Shortly after, grim realization damming in them, newfound survival instincts kicked in.

Chara's hands moved frantically, scratching until there was _room_ to scratch at all. Which was very hard, because every time it seemed there was at least the illusion of space, it was taken away soon after.

The need for air was dizzying, the lack of space was maddening. Chara's determination was drying pretty fast.

Were it not for the freshly revived memory of Asriel (crying, smiling hugging them so thight...) surfacing just as they were about to give up, Chara would have died a second time in their short lived physical existence.

Driven by pure raw determination alone, gold pulsing through their veins. Their feet kicking in desperate motions, their hands scratching frantically. Up, some primitive part of their very being screamed. They had to go up.

Everything that happened in the blackness was a blur. Chara had almost lost consciousness, when they saw through closed lids a faint peek of light.

Chara fred themselves of the earth. Their eyes tearing up to get rid of the dirt. The moment Chara inhaled fresh air with old, unused lungs, was the most relieving they'd had in a long, long time.

Sitting up, for the fallen knew not if their legs would support them had they attempted to stand, Chara's eyes met the beat up sight of the buttercups they destroyed in their urge to escape the soil.

Then the fallen was suddenly struck with the grim knowledge that they had just escaped their own tumb.

Doubling upon themselves as much as their body could manage, the frist fallen child did what they had wanted to do for more than a hundred timelines now. And so, Chara threw up.

This time, their eyes were met by blood and dirt. Red mud covered the withering golden flowers.

So the poison was still in their system. Even after such a long time.

Chara's eyes moved frantic, to pose over their hands. But no, they were met by the sight of healthy flesh, if maybe inhumanly pale. Their arms covered by the sleeves of a dirty green sweater.

Their hands flew to their face in mere seconds. But once again they were met by soft skin. Not a sight of irritation.

Chara's brain informed them that the magic properties in the Underground's soil were probably the reason their body was not pure bone. The reason their skin was free of irritations, and the reason they were still breathing at all.

Chara dared to digress. The last one was solely thanks to the undying determination flowing through their veins, where blood should be.

"W-what am I…?" Chara mumbled in a sore voice, product of going unused for what had to be a hundred years. Dread could be perceived in their tone all the same.

If they were a normal person (or anything resembling normal, really), Chara would be questioning their life choices.

However, they are not a normal person. So they just look around in the hopes of identifying their current location.

When the fallen feels that their feet would most likely not give in on them, Chara slowly but firmly stood up. They already had the strong suspicion that they had seen this place before.

Suspicion that was confirmed by the sight of a somewhat intact bed of buttercups. Perturbed only in the part of it that Chara had ruined in their struggle to live.

Well, maybe not only in that part.

Chara caught sight of their dagger, the point buried in the dirt. It was only then that they were able to spot Frisk.

Unmoved, _lifeless_ Frisk.

Filled with complex feelings that they couldn't affort to understand. Chara closed the distance between them just enough to be able to check the fake pacifist's pulse.

Chara feared what they may do if they were closer than necessary.

With a sigh of relief, Chara's body lost tension as they exhaled the breath they hadn't even realized they were containing.

Frisk was alive. Barely, but the child was alive.

Chara's eyes caught sight of the golden glow in Frisk's neck, as the sun settled further in the sky. At first, the fallen had mistaken it for a golden flower.

Then, they noticed the inscription ‘Best Friends Forever’ on it.

With a quick movement, Chara had already taked the locket and was prepared to place it on their own neck.

When the fallen realized what they were doing, they put it back where it belonged.

The child was unworthy of this necklace, but so was Chara. And Asriel would have wanted Frisk to have it anyway.

With another sigh, they settled themselves besides the seventh fallen child.

The thought of the unstable wall crumbling down to end them was not so comforting anymore.

"So, this is it huh…?" The frist fallen breathed out. As their hand sunconsciously played with the dagger, that they'd taken from the soil without consideration.

They stared at Frisk. Chera's eyes were all but stuck in the fake pacifist.

‘Why?’ They felt the need to ask, but didn't, for there would be no answer. And even if there was, it would be worth nothing, for this… thing beside them, was not Frisk anymore.

This, was nothing but an empty shell of what, in another life, could have been a happy, kind and healthy child.

A shell with no will of their own. A shell that only knew previous outcomes, and based their decisions purely on what they knew. On the options they were previously given.

A machine that cared not for nothing, and no one. A machine that only existed to carry out a story that repeats itself again and _again_.

An efficient human machine, that only worked the easiest, fastest way possible.

Too bad the seventh fallen couldn't acknowledge that _that_ path was the worst of them all.

Suddenly, in the middle of that deafening silence, another question struck Chara.

"What now?" The fallen asked at the thin air. And, as expected, no one answered.

But… that was a very important question.

They were in a hole, underground, inside a mountain that had been deserted since maybe over a year ago.

What now?

The fallen did not have the energy to do the journey to the surface by themselves, not to mention dragging Frisk along.

Chara would no doubt collapse against the cold, hard stone of the Ruins before they even made it to Snowdin.

So that was out of the question.

What now?

Trying to climb the walls was a certain death sentence, Chara would know as much.

_What now?_

They were completely alone, with an unconscious Frisk.

And… there was still the possibility to encounter Flowey.

**What now?!**

Chara didn't even realized they had begun to pace until they saw thay had squished the flowers in their urge to move.

They turned to look at Frisk, then with bared teeth and a venomous voice, exclaimed:

"This is your fault." Because it was.

At that moment, Chara felt a presence behind them.

"You." A known voice said, in a tone that was alien for them, but at the same time all too familiar.

Chara pleaded that this was all a nightmare. Because it couldn't be him.

Then, they turned around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cliffhanger~!
> 
> Hey readers, I really hope you enjoyed this story until now. Sorry to leave i on such a tight note. Then again, if you want closure you can always read the alternate endings They won't be canon after True Chapter 6 is published, but they will do for a while, so that's that.
> 
> Here's the link for that: [Chapter 6, Continue Until 10](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9445904/chapters/36289641)
> 
> Read you later~!


	6. We are Finally Going To Continue

So yeah, I have all the puzzle pieces I need, now I just need to piece them together so I can properly continue the story. The endings were already erased and the normal continuity (that'll actually be pretty similar) will be up soon.

Just, wanted to let you guys know it may take a while (a short while, don't worry). This message will be erased once the continuity is up, too, so you'll have a reference. Also, if you want to read the original endings (the original continuity), don't worry, they're still up and you will be able to do so in "Shenanigans Of A Character" another story of mine, Chapter's 6 to 10.

Here's the link for that: [Chapter 6, Continue Until 10](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9445904/chapters/36289641)

From now on, we're beginning the real story!


End file.
